


Can You Feel It? (What’s to Come?)

by overratedantihero



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Blackmail, Canon Typical Violence, Extramarital Affairs, Flirting, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Shared Bed, Sneaking Around, Tags will be updated, implied sex, ish, it’s a sort of high fantasy setting, rough housing, shared bath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-08-14 12:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick was married off when he was very young for political reasons. He never expected to run into his husband again, after all of these years. Least of all in his own home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A belated arranged marriage fic that I definitely want to expand. It’s like the sharing a bed trope, except it’s sharing a city-state!

Dick was only eight years old when he was married to Slade. It wasn’t improper; the marriage was purely that of convenience. Bruce, Dick’s fresh-faced father, needed to buy peace with marauders. Marrying Dick to Slade Wilson provided Bruce and his city-state with a level of sanctuary, and it provided Slade and his ilk with security of place, steady income, and some political power in the region.

The wedding itself was bare bones and even terse. As far as Dick could remember, Slade was young for a mercenary of his renown, blond haired, stern, and otherwise uninteresting. Dick fidgeted his way through the entire ordeal, uncaring for the ceremony. There were games to play and trouble to be found, and each moment he wasted listening to a priest drone while Bruce scowled in the background was better spent finding the highest tree to climb.

Near the end of the vows, Slade subtly gripped Dick’s wrist in his hand and shot Dick a sharp glance with piercing blue eyes. The grip was tight, not quite painful, but nevertheless Dick stilled for the remainder of the ritual.

Dick didn’t see much of Slade after that, and he didn’t care to. He grew up in his city with Bruce by his side, while Slade left to do whatever Slade did when he wasn’t’ haunting Gotham. As Dick aged, Bruce taught him first to fight, and then to fight for just causes. Dick took to masking himself and touring the city at night, stepping in where he could, and reporting back to Bruce where he couldn’t. Bruce never mentioned Slade and neither did Dick, and eventually, Dick all but forgot Slade’s piercing blue eyes and sharp frown.

Over time, Dick also collected siblings. First there was spitfire, angry Jason, who died quick and came back with a mean gloss over his earnestness. Dick grew protective after Jason, and he coddled Tim, and then Damian.

He was with Damian in the library, posing for one of Damian’s sketches, when Tim burst in without preamble.

“You’re _married_?!” Tim blurting, waving about what appeared to be a letter. Damian paused, charcoal hovering above the parchment.

“What nonsense are you on about now, Drake?” Damian hissed. Dick cocked his head from where he lounged. “We would recall if there were a marriage.”

“No,” Dick said, sitting up and stretching despite Damian’s huff. “Tim’s right, I’m married.”

Damian dropped his charcoal. It hit the parchment and smudged the silhouette of Dick’s face. Tim’s face paled and took on a rather green hue.

“That’s—That’s not possible, we would have known,” Damian began. Dick shook his head.

“It happened shortly after Bruce claimed me his son. It was before Jason arrived, Damian, you weren’t even born yet.”

“He married you off as a child?” Tim squeaked, gripping the letter in his hand so tightly that it crunched.

Dick shrugged. “It was a political arrangement, it’s not as if I even saw my husband after the fact. Tim, what is that in your hand and why do you ask?”

“It’s a letter,” Tim mumbled, looking off somewhere past Dick. 

Dick snorted. “I assumed as much. Hand it over before it becomes dust in your hand.”

Tim stood and offered the crumpled paper to Dick. Dick carefully unraveled it and smoothed out what he could of the wrinkles before he skimmed the words. And then he stopped, read them again, and frowned.

“Has Bruce seen this?” Dick asked. Tim shook his head.

“It was delivered moments before I came to see you. I haven’t had the chance to show him.”

Dick nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

Distantly, Dick felt it when Damian pried the letter from his hands. He heard Damian’s shouts of indignation as if through water. Tim’s softer voice blurred that of Damian’s, but eventually both fell away into white noise. A distinct ringing thrummed in Dick’s skull, interrupted only when Jason inserted his face directly in Dick’s like of vision and shouted, “Get it together, Goldie.” 

Dick blinked. “What?” He asked, dazed and slow on the uptake. Jason slapped him while Damian squawked indignantly. 

“I said, ‘get it together.’ He’s arriving soon and we should meet with Bruce prior to that. You hear me through that thick skull of yours?”

Dick nodded. “Meet with Bruce, right.” 

It took shouting and a fist fight, but Jason convinced Tim and Damian to stay behind. He practically dragged Dick by Dick’s scruff to Bruce’s chambers, where Bruce was, unsurprisingly, packing. 

“Were you intending to leave us without a goodbye?” Jason growled, abandoning Dick’s side to stride forward and thrust the letter in Bruce’s face. “Without warning us? Warning Dick?” 

Bruce’s brows furrowed as he scanned the letter. When he finished, his frown deepened. “Yes, well. I was preparing to call Dick here anyhow.” Bruce turned to address Dick, who still clung to the threshold. “I will be leaving for several weeks, Dick,” Bruce said slowly, having noted Dick’s glassy gaze. “As Crown Prince, you are to maintain the throne in my absence. It was Slade’s right as your husband and my son-in-law to know. I didn’t expect him to return, but as he has decided he will, he will be by your side as well.” 

“Like hell he will,” Jason growled. “No one here knows him. We won’t stand by this, Bruce.”

Bruce regarded Jason coolly. “You can, and you will. Slade is a mercenary and a traveler. Trifling, sedentary work bores him. His stay won’t be long. Dick, do I have your faith?”

Dick looked up sharply upon hearing his name. “Yes. Of course,” Dick murmured, voice distant. “I will entertain our guest while he’s here, but I’ll ensure the city’s sovereignty until your return.” Dick cracked a strained smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “You can count on me, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded while Jason gawked. “As I thought. If you excuse me, boys, I must prepare to leave.” 

He breezed by Dick and and Jason, closing the door behind him. Once they were alone, and once the sound of Bruce’s footsteps receded, Jason turned on Dick. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jason growled. Dick furrowed his brows and glared up at the ceiling.

”Honestly? Trying to remember what my husband’s face looks like,” Dick muttered.

Dick’s endeavor was fruitless. Slade arrived well before Bruce’s departure, forcing a banquet to honor the occasion, and Slade looked nothing like Dick’s childhood memory. 

From where Dick was seated next to Slade, he could take in the long silver hair, pulled back from his face neatly, and his white eyepatch. Slade’s gaze no longer read as stern or dry, but bright and intelligent and exposing. Aside from the shade of his hair, Slade looked young enough to be Bruce’s brother. 

Dick took a sip of his wine as Bruce droned introductions from the head of the table. Each of the guests, all members of the broader household, looked either bored, furious, or openly concerned. Slade’s only attendant, Wintergreen, was in the kitchen with Alfred, leaving only Dick’s family to fret and shift in their restlessness. 

“— and I’ll return home long before I’m missed. In the interim, defer to your crown prince and his husband, and, for the love of the gods, behave,” Bruce finished, landing heavily back into his seat. Without further preamble, Alfred brought and distributed the first course and the feast began. 

Despite the decadent food and the presence of his family, tension snaked up Dick’s spine, straightening his back and clotting in his throat. 

“You look well,” Dick murmured to Slade, in the hopes of finding relief.

Slade snorted. “I’ve aged, kid. Lost an eye, since we last met. You, however, have grown up prettily. Tell me, what do you do to maintain your figure?”

Dick huffed, prodding at his food. Slade was toying with him, but how and to what end, Dick wasn’t sure. 

“Acrobatics,” Dick said, before taking a sip of his wine. “I fancy myself an acrobat.” 

Slade snorted and ate a few bites before answering. “It’s going around, I hear. Since I last found my way here, I’ve heard tale of a masked vigilante with a taste for acrobatics. Do you, my king, think he fancies himself an acrobat too?”

Dick propped his chin in his hand. “Oh, I can’t possibly imagine how he fancies himself. If you’d like to find him and ask him yourself, I am more than happy to arrange for accommodations in a hotel elsewhere in the city, closer to where he purportedly roams.” 

Slade laughed, and Dick found he quite liked the sound. 

“How kind, I’ll consider the offer,” Slade mused. “For now, however, I’m more interested in your hobbies. I would like to see your acrobatics in person.” 

Dick blushed. Slade couldn’t possibly have meant what Dick thought he’d meant, but nevertheless, Dick’s thoughts were terribly illustrative. 

Across the room, Jason glowered. 

“You’d do well to relax,” Helena mused. “You and I are both here as a courtesy, I have no doubt that Bruce will evict us if you kill Dick’s... husband, with that glare of yours.” 

Jason took a deep breath and then murmured, “From what I hear, he’s sturdy. I’d rather slip a knife between his ribs.”

Slade laughed, and Dick shifted subtly in Slade’s direction, leaning towards Slade and grinning that stupid grin of his. 

“He doesn’t have any more choice than the rest of us,” Helena murmured, following Jason’s gaze. “Be kind to him. This can’t be easy.”

Jason scowled at Helena before stabbing at his food aimlessly. “I just hate how he encourages a man he barely knows,” Jason hisses. “This man is a mercenary, he could intend to slit all of our throats as we sleep for all Bruce or Dick know. And yet here we sit, sharing food and libations as if Bruce hasn’t done a terrible thing. And what of Slade’s accommodations? Do we know whether or not Bruce will forced the two to share a bed?”

At that, Barbara leaned over to whisper, “They have separate beds within the same hall. Have faith, Jason. Dick can handle himself.”

Jason turned his attention back to Slade, who was staring at Dick’s lips as Dick talked.

”I’ve never been a man for faith,” Jason grumbled.  

“Then it’s fortunate Dick has all of us,” Barbara said curtly. “To protect and advise him.” 

“I don’t know,” Helena mused, also watching Dick and Slade. Dick now had a hand on Slade’s shoulder, and Helena had no doubt that Dick’s glass was in need of filling. “He seems content on Slade’s arm. I don’t believe he needs our guidance to do what he already does so well.” 

“And what is it that he does?” Jason asked. 

“People,” Helena winked. Jason threw a potato at her and Bruce rubbed his temples from across the table. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce leaves, Dick becomes acquainted with his husband.

Dick found himself outside, wandering the gardens of the estate that night. Bruce would leave at daybreak, and Slade would remain. Although their dinner conversation had been pleasant, and even deceptively warm at times, Dick did not trust Slade. He wasn't able to glean anything regarding Slade's intentions over dinner, and the firmer he pressed, the more Slade appeared to withdraw. More than that, Slade appeared fixated on Dick's alter ego, the masked vigilante Nightwing, and the quickness with which Slade compared Dick's acrobatics to that of Nightwing's was disconcerting and blatant. 

Any attempt at flagging down Bruce or catching Bruce alone was lost well before the dinner's conclusion. Bruce excused himself to his quarters and Alfred would not let anyone, not even Dick, disturb him. 

"And what if I told you it was an emergency?" Dick had hissed. Alfred had blinked impassively, as Alfred tended to do. 

"Then I would tell you that you have me, your brothers, your sister, and the rest of the household beside you. Uncertainty is not unreasonable, Master Dick, but you mustn't let it feed irrationality." 

A shadow flickered over to Dick's left, away from the gardens and closer to the modest cemetery. 

Without a second thought, Dick pursued the shadow, striding away from the overflowing hydrangeas and soft dirt path to one of cobblestone, edged by stately, well trimmed trees. But once he'd reached the twin pillars marking Bruce's parents' graves, Dick could see nothing afoot. He circled the markers, and then he stopped by Jason's vacated plot. It appeared as if never disturbed, but Dick knew it to be empty. Nevertheless, he gave the headstone a friendly pat as he continued to peruse the quiet landscape. 

Having discovered nothing amiss, Dick decided it was time he returned to his chambers, lest his husband wake in the morning to find Dick unkempt from a night out. Such a sight was unbecoming of a prince, and it would feed into Slade's fantasies regarding Nightwing. Dick couldn't decide what disturbed Dick more, Slade's keenness for detail or his morbid affection for violent proclivities.

Just before Dick reached the entrance to the cemetery, another shadow teased his peripheral. Dick set out to shout, but a weight dropped on him from one of the trees above and Dick hit the stone with such force that it knocked the breath from his lungs. After a brief struggle, Dick managed to wiggle his way onto his back, to face his attacker. Once he managed to find his breath again, Dick let out an irritated huff. 

"What are you doing out?" Dick demanded. 

Jason blinked from where he straddled Dick, arms on the ground on either side of Dick's head. 

"I could ask you the same," Jason murmured. "Odd that you'd neglect your husband after his extended absence from your home." 

Dick scowled and drove a fist into Jason's stomach. Jason groaned and dropped down to his elbows, keeping Dick fully trapped but also emitting a truly pitiful noise. Satisfaction curled, warm, in Dick's belly. 

"You know the nature of my arrangement with Slade," Dick hissed. "I was a boy, I didn't have a choice. Never mind that, it's a purely political relationship built on Gotham's well protected borders and Slade's cushioned lifestyle."

"You have a choice now," Jason hissed, voice strained and pitched, lips practically brushing Dick's ear. "Annul the marriage, while Bruce is elsewhere. End this now. Slade brought only one man, he's unable to retaliate. Do it, Dick, lest I accuse you of lying." With some effort, Jason lifted himself onto his hands again, to glare down at Dick. 

Dick sighed. He reached out his arms and wrapped them around Jason's torso, dragging Jason closer into himself. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position, with Dick's back just barely clearing the stone ground and Jason's knees still holding up Jason's hips. But Jason sunk into the embrace regardless, and when Dick pushed him away, it was only to murmur, "I've never lied to you," before placing a chaste kiss on Jason's lips. 

A kiss that Jason quickly chased, darting forward and nipping Dick's bottom lip, pressing Dick back, flat on his back.

"We're in a cemetery. Have some respect for the dead," Dick chastised. 

Jason scowled. "I am the dead." 

Dick laughed, but patted Jason's shoulder until Jason back away enough for Dick to sit up. 

"Well, I'm living, and I put enough strain on my back without your contributions. Let's return, before we're missed. We can clean the dirt from our skin and discuss further your concerns regarding our house guest." 

Jason stood, pulling Dick up to his feet too. Then he crossed his arms. "I'm not concerned about him. I distrust him, and I dislike the way you sidle close to him and touch him. He may be out to slit your throat, or to assault your, or to usurp Bruce entirely. Bruce told Slade of his impending absence as a courtesy. After all of these years, there is no reason for Slade to return because of a courtesy."

"You're jealous," Dick cooed, standing on his tiptoes to nip Jason's jaw. Jason reared his head back, but did not move away when Dick tucked his head under Jason's chin. "I don't trust him either, and I allow him close because at least while close I can keep an eye on him. If it's any consolation, I believe he may be more interested in Nightwing than he is in me." 

"That's still you," Jason groaned, exasperated. "You may consider Nightwing a separate entity, but he's not. He and you are the same, and whatever sick intentions Slade may harbor for Nightwing will translate just as easily to you." 

A bird tittered somewhere high and above as the sky shifted shades, a warning that daybreak approached. 

"Sick is such a strong word, Little Wing," Dick murmured. "But we'll argue later, for now I'm tired and going to bed. Follow if you wish, I will not wait." 

Without further ado, Dick unwound himself from Jason and walked off, passing midway through the gardens before the beating of Jason's footsteps indicated Jason decided to follow after all. Dick did not slow down, that would only embolden Jason, but when Jason did catch up, Dick kissed his cheek for his efforts. 

"I hate you," Jason hissed. 

"I know," Dick murmured. 

Jason followed Dick into the bath, and then into the bedroom. He didn't leave Dick's side until the sky took on a peach tinted glow and noise outside announced preparations for Bruce's departure. 

"Go," Dick murmured sleepily, wiggling against Jason from where Jason curled around him. "It wouldn't do for Bruce to catch us." 

"Not Slade?" Jason asked, reached down to stroke Dick's naked thigh. 

Dick opened his eyes and craned his neck to nip Jason's bottom lip. "No, I couldn't care less if Slade were to notice. Marriage of convenience, Jason. I'm sure he's had his fair share in my absence too." 

Jason nuzzled Dick's neck, nipping his skin and then kissing where he bit. "It would be improper. That was then, this is now. Now, he's in the household. Someone ought to make you an honest man." He bit Dick's skin, this time roughly, with intent. 

" _Jay_ ," Dick chided, although he arched his neck anyways. He was sensitive, it was a problem. 

"What?" Jason murmured against Dick's skin. "'S not like he's going to see it." Jason bit and sucked at the skin until it reddened. Then, Jason peppered sweet, light kisses up Dick's throat and along his jaw, finishing with a peck to Dick's cheekbone. "Right?" 

"Right," Dick whispered. 

And then, because Dick couldn't have anything nice, knocking sounded against Dick's thick wooden door. Dick swallowed an irritable groan, and Jason buried his face in the crook of Dick's shoulder to muffle his laughter. 

"Wake up!" Damian called. "Father's to leave soon, don't tell me you're still in bed?" 

"Nope, I'm up, Damian!" Dick shouted, shoving Jason off the bed and scrambling up. Jason obligingly began to toss him clothes, some of his nicer fabrics, for the occasion. "I'll be out in just a minute! Go make sure Tim's awake!" 

Damian grumbled something unintelligible but wandered off, judging by the sound of his footsteps. 

"Well, Goldie," Jason mused. "Get yourself together, you've got a husband and a city to attend to." 

Bruce left without much fanfare. He was accompanied only by Selina Kyle, Jim Gordon, and Kate Kane. Dick was more than a little irked that he wasn't privy to their purpose, but no one could force Bruce to do anything, much less communicate. So, he thundered off, leaving the estate in a cloud of dust and doubt. 

And no sooner than he did, did Slade snake an arm around Dick's side. Dick nearly jumped out of his skin, but Slade just pulled him close and murmured in his ear, "It's been a while since I was last here. Perhaps you should show me around the city? Remind me what we're administrating." 

Dick liked Slade's voice. He knew he shouldn't, but the shiver it elicited was involuntary. "Yes, of course," Dick murmured. Louder, he announced his departure to the members of the family hanging back. 

"You two shouldn't leave without a guard," Helena warned, stepping forward. Slade tilted his head. 

"He needn't a guard. He has me." 

Barbara shot Dick a sharp glance, but Dick shrugged. "We'll return in a few hours."

Quickly, Dick realized that Slade didn't care much for the city itself, but for the sites that Nightwing was known to haunt. After their third detour into an unmarked alley, in which Slade observed stone and dirt as if capable of finding evidence as to Nightwing's whereabouts, Dick grew tired of the game. 

"If you are concerned about the vigilante, he's yet to become a public menace. And should that change, we'll deal with it then," Dick muttered. Slade shook his head. 

"I'm an admirer. I couldn't care less if he disrupts the local law enforcement. He's talented, and disciplined. That's what I'm interested in. You're familiar with my work, Dick, yes?" 

Dick swallowed a biting remark about the nature of mercenaries. "Yes, I am," he said instead. 

"Then surely you understand my interest in his skill set?" 

Dick's throat was too dry to swallow. "The methods you employ wouldn't agree with him, not based on what we've observed thus far. He's disruptive, but he's benevolent. And as far as we know, he isn't earning an income from his nightly activities." 

Slade hummed and turned to Dick. Slade looked Dick up and down and leaned against the alley wall. "You're correct. Leading me to believe that Nightwing is independently wealthy. Or, at least financially stable enough to afford himself the luxury of time."

"Fancy yourself a detective?" Dick murmured lightly. Slade grinned, flashing teeth. 

"No more than Nightwing fancies himself an acrobat." And then Slade lunged. 

Instinct clicked long before rational thought. Slade dove in low, and so Dick jumped high, planting two hands on Slade's shoulders as leverage to sling himself into the air. After flipping over Slade, he barely had a breath to steady himself before Slade was once again charging him. Dick looped an arm around Slade's neck, slung himself around Slade's body, and landed firmly against Slade's back, wrapping his legs around Slade's torso and pulling his forearm sharply into Slade's trachea. 

"There we go, kid!" Slade rasped before throwing himself to the ground. Dick let out a squawk and rolled away, but not before Slade managed to snag Dick's ankle and pull Dick underneath him. Slade snagged both of Dick's wrists and pressed them on the cobblestone above Dick's head. He straddled Dick's hips and tangled his legs in Dick's own to still them. Dick tugged and kicked and struggled, but Slade subdued him with an unnatural speed and strength. When he'd first struck, his movements were slow, clumsy. A ruse, Dick realized, head spinning. 

"What are you?" Dick spat, glaring up at Slade. Slade who just grinned smugly. 

"A soldier," Slade cooed. "Enhanced. Interested in the Crown Prince and his alter ego Nightwing." 

Dick stilled and glared. "I'm not--" 

"Don't lie, kid. It's not a good look for you. I found your uniform last night, while you were gallivanting around the grounds. Presumably. I wouldn't think you'd go out into the city at night without the proper dress."

Dick tried to yank at his wrists again. Slade's grip tightened, and as furious and exposed and helpless as Dick felt... Dick was also impressed. Impressed that Slade would figure it out so quickly, that Slade was bold enough to investigate Dick's quarters. And he was pleased. Pleased that Slade seemed interested in his passion project. Pleased that Slade seemed uninterested in what Dick was doing at night, without his uniform. If he were Bruce, that would be his first concern.

"Okay, I won't lie," Dick murmured. "But what do you care for Nightwing?"

Slade cocked his head. "I want to improve upon him, of course. You're good, Dick, but your act's not brilliant." 

Dick's mouth fell open. He'd never--! 

"But we could make you brilliant. We could craft and carve you into something frightful," Slade cooed, stroking Dick's cheek with the back of his free hand. "I assume that Daddy's been teaching you a few tricks? I can show you so much more. He wants you to rise, Dick, but only so far. You know your father, you know what he'd do for control." 

Dick growled, writhing. His struggles did nothing but cause something to pop in his shoulder. "You insult me, and now Bruce? Know your place," Dick hissed past the pain. Slade smirked, and Dick wriggled with greater fervor, grimacing in his effort. Slade paid his attempts at escape no mind, leaning down and nuzzling Dick's hair. 

"Oh, but I do. I'm your husband, Dick. And I've returned to you. For good, this time." 

Dick stilled. "No," he whispered. "You're to leave when Bruce returns. You've only returned to account for Bruce's absence--" 

"I intended to return as soon as I realized what a promising, pretty, aggressive creature you'd grown into," Slade murmured, lifting his head, meeting Dick's wide eyes. "Understand, Dick, I have the utmost intention to do right by you as your lawfully wedded husband."

"I will fight you, your every overreach," Dick growled. 

Slade pecked Dick's forehead. "That's all I ask of you."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

When Dick and Slade returned, Dick thought he was putting forth a good, neutral front. That is until he ran into his brothers on the way to his room. He smiled and was about to say hello, but Tim and Damian’s grave faces stalled him.

“What?” Dick asked, perhaps a touch defensively. He unconsciously grabbed his own wrist, as if Slade’s touch left evidence.

Damian spluttered, “You’re covered in dirt, Grayson. What happened?”

Dick looked down at himself and flushed. Oh.

“I fell,” Dick said quickly, wincing at how that sounded. Tim’s brows furrowed.

“Where’s Slade?” Tim asked. Once he did, understanding dawned on Damian’s face.

“Did he touch you?” Damian hissed. “I’ll kill him!”

“No!” Dick groaned, running his hand through his hair. “No, I really did fall. Tripped over an uneven stone. Slade went to explore the grounds. He’s new here, he’s trying to learn.”

“What for?” Damian hissed, crossing his arms. “He’s an unwelcome guest.”

“And my husband,” Dick sighed. “Leave it, Damian. Bruce will return before long. In the meantime, I have everything under control, okay?”

Before they could argue further, Dick brushed past them. Once he reached his bedroom, he shed his clothes and tossed himself on his bed with a groan. His back was sore, as were his wrists. He scratched at them and noticed a few scrapes from the cobblestones. Dick huffed and flopped back down.

A knock sounded on Dick’s door, and Dick groaned and tugged a blanket over his naked skin for modesty’s sake.

“I’m not here,” he announced.

The door pushed open, and Helena peeked her head into the room. “I brought salve,” she offered. “Tim said that you fell, and your wrists looked a bit raw.” She stepped in and closed the door behind me.

Dick sat up, letting the blanket pool in his lap and gripping his wrist self-consciously. “You don’t believe me.”

Helena shrugged and held out the small jar of some green gel. “It’s aloe and arnica,” she said. “I believe you fell. I don’t believe you tripped. Do you have scrapes outside of your wrists?”

Dick shrugged and turned around. Helena tsked behind him.

“Your shoulder looks swollen. You have a few scrapes along your upper back. You’ll live. May I?”

“Go ahead,” Dick murmured. “Don’t tell any of the boys.”

“That you needed medical care?” Helena murmured, settling on the bed behind Dick and popping open the jaw. “Or that you were injured at all?”

The salve was cold, and Dick hissed, and then groaned as Helena massaged it into his shoulder. She used a lighter touch to dab it across various scrapes.

“That I was injured beyond my wrists. They’re already wary, I don’t want to disturb them further,” Dick sighed.

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” Helena mused. “You’ll need to rest for at least a week, your shoulder looks awful. Don’t go out at least until this swelling goes down.”

Dick nodded. “It’s for the best if I stay in, anyhow. Slade, I learned, has developed a fascination with Nightwing. I don’t want to give him any material to study or chase.”

“Good. Don’t forget you’re administering this city until Bruce returns,” Helena added. “Remaining close may also put your brothers at ease. I’m sure Barbara would appreciate more judicious behavior.”

“And you?” Dick asked, craning his neck back and winking at Helena. Helena snorted and gingerly recapped the jar before standing and finding the water basin. She rinsed her hands.

“It’s not in my best interest to tell someone else’s man how to behave,” she smirked. Dick’s eyes widened.

He didn’t think anyone in the household knew about he and Jason, but Jason had become bolder as of late. Tackling Dick in the cemetery was only the latest example. It wouldn’t do for Bruce to discover them, and gossip traveled quickly. But before he could say anything in his defense, Helena raised her eyebrows.

“Your husband, Dick. You’re married. Even if it’s strictly legal, I still respect the union.”

“Oh,” Dick said. “You understand it’s not—”

“Unless of course,” Helena interrupted, pointedly looking away, “you want to admit to any abuse on his part. We could have the marriage annulled if he is violating you in any way.”

Before she finished speaking, Dick was already shaking his head.

“I was injured as Nightwing, last night,” he lied. “My clothes covered my wounds and they were worsened by my fall today. Besides, you know this union is important to Gotham.”

“It’s important to Bruce,” Helena corrected. She left the jar on the table next to Dick’s bed and briefly cupped his cheek. “I’ll trust you, for now. But should he hurt you, I will tear him limb from limb and bathe in his blood.”

“One could never accuse you of moderation,” Dick snorted. She grinned and pecked his forehead.

“I’ll let you apply the salve to your wrists yourself. Goodbye, Dick. You may want to find a way to soothe Damian’s upset soon, before he murders Slade himself.”

And with that, she was gone.

Dick snorted. There was nothing he could do to soothe Damian, short of evicting Slade from the city. And he couldn’t do that. Especially not now, not when Slade knew of his other identity. Not when Bruce, Kate, and Jim were gone, leaving the city dramatically vulnerable should their tenuous agreement with Slade fall apart.

No, Dick would manage this, but he didn’t have the will nor the ability to appease Damian too. The household would just have to cope until Dick found his footing.

Dick laid out on his stomach and closed his eyes, focusing on the cool touch of the salve. He fell asleep like that, not waking until he felt hands, as soothing and chilled as the salve, massaging into his skin. Dick groaned, and arched into the touch, even when the hands traveled to his lower back and the dimples right above his backside.

“Uh-uh,” Dick grunted, closed eyes squeezing tight when the hands brushed too firmly against a scrape. “Not r’now. Shoulder’s sore.”

The hands drifted back to his shoulder, massaging deep into the muscle. Dick moaned, shifting his hips.

“Nn, Jason,” Dick whined. “Not what I meant.”

“Jason?” Slade rumbled from above Dick. “That’s interesting.”

Dick’s eyes flung open and he tried to jerk up, but the hands, Slade’s hands, shoved him back down.

“Relax, little bird,” Slade murmured. “I won’t touch where I’m not welcome. I noticed your back and the salve, and I thought I’d help. I do feel partially responsible, after all,” Slade said, almost conversationally, as he continued to massage Dick’s back. Dick stayed still, but his body was tense, leading Slade to grunt unhappily.

“Partially?” Dick hissed. “You held me down!”

“You did try to choke me,” Slade offered, released Dick to scoop more of the salve into his palm.

“After you threw yourself at me,” Dick grumbled. “You attacked me.”

Slade gingerly smeared more of the aloe mixture to Dick’s shoulder. “Don’t be dramatic.” He removed his hands and wiped them clean on Dick’s bedding. Dick immediately scrambled to his knees and scooted to the other side of the bed, covering his lap with a pillow. He couldn’t help but notice that his shoulder did feel a smidgen better.

Now that he could see Slade, he could see that Slade had shed most of his accessories and general garb of black leather in favor of his orange and white under armor. He frowned when Slade stretched and laid out on the bed as if he belonged there.

“Slade,” Dick gritted out. “What are you doing here?”

Slade opened the eye he’d closed. “Resting.”

“This is my bed,” Dick reminded him, in case he forgot. Slade snorted.

“We’re married,” Slade murmured, closing his eye again. “It’s right that we share a bed.”

Cold horror trickled down Dick’s spine.

“And after the staff took such care in preparing your quarters?” Dick asked, voice pitched. “How awful. It would insult Alfred, you know.”

Slade rolled over onto his side and opened his eye again, assessing Dick. To Dick, he looked like a large cat with a bird between its teeth.

“Wintergreen and Alfred are old friends, I have no doubt I’ll be able to smooth over any sore feelings,” Slade mused. Dick scowled.

The pillow didn’t seem enough, so Dick yanked up his blanket to cover himself up to his shoulders and slid off the bed entirely. “What do you want from me?” Dick hissed.

With a smirk, Slade sat up. “Only what I’ve already discussed with you. I’m your husband, I intend to behave as your husband from now on—don’t fret, I’d never force you,” Slade added, when Dick began to scramble back. “I’ll even allow you your… dalliances.”

“Dalliances?” Dick hissed. “ _Allow_?”

Slade cocked his head. “Your adoptive brother is an interesting choice, but feel free to continue the behavior, as long as you’re discreet. But I am your husband, and affairs are grounds for divorce. But if I’m to overlook your infidelity, you’re to behave as a husband should. We will share quarters, we will make decisions together, we will sit beside one another, and we will go out together. In the night, as well as during the day.”

Dick’s jaw fell open. “You want to accompany Nightwing?” he spluttered. “And you believe that  _Jason_ and I.... How dare you—”

“Behave as your husband? Indeed,” Slade stood from the bed and began to stalk closer. Dick pressed his back against the wall.

“You still have a choice, kid. You can choose to disrupt the agreement between myself, my mercenaries, and Gotham. You can choose to expose your affair with Jason. Or, you can continue as Nightwing, you can continue to enjoy a city safe from external harm, and you can continue warming Jason’s bed.” When Dick opened his mouth to deny his insinuation, Slade shook his head. "Don't lie, kid. I'm not blind."  

Dick shrunk into the wall when Slade planted a hand against the stone to the side and above his head. Despite his posture, Dick glared up at Slade and sneered, flashing his teeth.

“I will not lay with you,” he spat. Slade snorted.

“I haven’t asked you to. Do we have an understanding?”

Dick would do better to bide his time and plot a way out of this vise. Kneejerk reactions could harm Gotham, and Jason too.

“Yes,” Dick snipped. “We have an understanding.”

“Good boy,” Slade beamed, tilting Dick’s chin up and kissing him on the forehead. “Good, selfless, clever boy.” 

A throat cleared, and both Slade and Dick’s attentions snapped to the threshold. Jason stood there, expression unreadable but for the hard set to his mouth.

“You’re needed,” Jason murmured. “There’s been a conflict between Oswald and Sionis. As kings, you need to mediate.”

“Of course,” Slade said, stepping away from Dick. “I’ll leave you to become… decent,” he murmured with a glance at Dick. Dick lifted the sheets so high that his knuckle brushed his chin.

Slade breezed past Jason, and Jason glared daggers at Slade’s back. As soon as the door fell closed, Jason’s furious gaze snapped to Dick. Dick’s mouth fell open.

“It’s—It’s not—Jay, nothing happened,” Dick pleaded. Jason glanced down, at Dick’s wrists.

“Did he force you?” Jason growled. Dick shook his head.

“We fought, briefly, in the city. He grabbed my wrists, I fell on the stone. That’s all. He didn’t assault me further. He just wanted to incite me, he knows about Nightwing, and he’s obsessed.”

Jason strode over, cupped Dick’s face, turned his chin back and forth. His assessment moved down Dick’s neck, to Dick’s shoulder. His frown deepened.

“It’s just sore,” Dick whispered.

“I don’t want you alone with him,” Jason finally said, wrapping an arm around Dick’s waist and pulling him close. With his spare hand, he tucked Dick’s head into the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Not a choice, Jay,” Dick murmured into Jason's skin. “He wants to share quarters.”

Jason’s grip became uncomfortably tight. “Say no.”

Dick wiggled, and Jason released him. “I can’t,” Dick murmured, glancing up at Jason. “I can’t say no, but he swore he wouldn’t force me. I believe him, for now.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “You won’t fight him on this?”

“Can’t,” Dick whispered again.

Jason released him and stepped back, his face slipping back into that blank slate from before. “Get dressed,” he said, turning on his heels and walking away. Without turning back, he added, “you’re needed to mediate.”

Dick watched him leave until the door closed and Dick couldn’t see him anymore. Dick picked up the open jar of salve and slung it against the wall with a shout.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Settling next to Slade that night was far easier than Dick thought it would be. He was exhausted. Administering the city and mediating between less than savory men was taxing, and Dick was listless by dinner. His shoulder throbbed, and Jason was pouting at the far end of the table. Damian and Tim were livelier than they’d been in days, but Dick excused himself early anyhow.

Slade followed shortly afterwards, and Dick winced when he heard Slade’s steps fall behind him. Dick could only imagine how Jason would react. He stopped, and Slade placed a hand on his hip.

“Which bedroom?” Slade offered. Dick closed his eyes, having prepared for the question. He couldn’t allow Slade to sleep in the same bed Dick habitually shared with Jason. It was too violating.

“Yours,” Dick finally murmured. “I’ve already told Alfred as such, when he brought dinner.” Slade pat him on the back and walked ahead.

And although Dick followed with hesitation, once they reached the room, he sunk into the bedding with a groan as he allowed his shoulders to relax for the first time in hours. Slade snorted.

“Get decent,” Slade chided, changing into sleepwear without modesty. Dick pointedly glanced away, up until Slade threw his tunic at Dick’s face.

With a splutter, Dick sat up on his knees. He pulled away the shirt to throw it back at Slade but froze in the act.

Slade stood before him, undressed and unbelievably tall. His body was unmarked, despite his decades of marauding, but his arms and thighs were thick with muscle and Dick’s mouth went dry. A knowing smirk briefly crossed Slade’s lips before his expression melted into indifference. Dick flushed.

In nothing but his braies, Slade laid out on the bed, back against the mountain of pillows Alfred supplied upon hearing about the new sleeping arrangement. Broken from his reverie, Dick tossed Slade’s tunic to the ground and stripped down to his own undertunic. He crawled beneath the bedding and let out another noise of satisfaction as he stretched.

“You should be wary of those wandering eyes, kid,” Slade murmured, eyeing the mark on Dick's neck, “lest your guard dog get the wrong idea.”

Dick rolled over so that his back was facing Slade, despite the pressure on his swollen shoulder. “I don’t know to what you’re referring,” Dick snipped.

“What’d I say about lying?” Slade snapped back. Dick rolled over and pushed himself up on his hands, glaring down at Slade.

“I didn’t deny our relationship,” Dick said. “But my eyes don’t wander, and Jason knows that.” Dick relaxed back onto his side, this time facing Slade. “And he’s not my dog.” Slade’s eyebrows rose.

“If you insist. He reads as terribly defensive,” Slade murmured. Dick opened his mouth to retort, but Slade shook his head and continued, “He thinks you’re vulnerable, delicate, easily taken. He does you a disservice.”

Dick’s jaw closed with a click. That nearly sounded like a compliment.

“He’s sensitive,” Dick finally said. “He’s experienced more than his fair share of loss.”

“I have no doubt,” Slade hummed, closing his eye. “He must take well to being kept a secret.”

Dick scowled. “Don’t speak of him anymore.“ The less attention Jason would be forced to field from Slade, the better. Especially if this were to be a long term arrangement.

Dick softened his voice, smoothed his frown into a coy smile, and glanced up at Slade through his eyelashes. “You have me in your bed, is that not enough?” he murmured, reaching out to lightly brush Slade's hand. 

Opening his eye, Slade glanced at the space between he and Dick. “Do I?” Slade asked. When Dick’s face melted into indignation, Slade shook his head. “I said I wouldn’t force you, and I won’t. You’re pretty, and I’m sure your routine works fine on others, but don’t pretend you’re offering more than you are.”

Dick pursed his lips and stared at Slade for a spell, measuring him. 

"Goodnight, Slade," Dick finally murmured, rolling over. 

"Goodnight, Dick," Slade mused. 

Although Dick shared a bed with Slade, he dreamt of Jason. The dream began warm and sugar sweet, with his legs wrapped around Jason’s waist, back against a wall in a sunlit bedroom. But then, Jason shoved Dick to the floor. When Dick tried to scramble to his feet, Jason was quick to press a boot against Dick’s chest, lean down, and say, _“You made your choice.”_

Dick woke with a start, snatched the covers in a fist and breathed hard. Jason rejecting him was a recurring dream. So were dreams of Bruce rejecting him, or Dick’s birth parents. But tonight felt less a dream and more a premonition. The family didn’t understand or condone his recent choices, least of all Jason. But Bruce entrusted him as regent and Slade threatened him as a husband. Dick had no choice at all. 

Anxiety crawled beneath Dick’s skin. He needed to go out, to dress in his mask and do something substantial for his people, but Slade slept soundly beside him. Dick didn’t want to bring Slade with him, but he was wary of what Slade would do if Dick went without him. And so Dick tried to settle into the sheets, only to toss, and turn, and pine for Jason.

That is until Slade stirred beside him. Dick stilled, but it was too late. 

“Can’t sleep?” Slade muttered, single eye boring into Dick even in the dark. Dick shook his head, and Slade raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to go out then?”

At that, Dick shook his head even more emphatically. Slade let out a soft snort and lifted his arm.

”Come.”

Dick stiffened and Slade rolled his eye.

“Kid, I won’t hurt you. But if you won’t go out and you won’t sit still, then I’ll hold you still.”

Usually, it was Jason who held him after his nightmares or when he was too wired to relax or be productive. But nevertheless, Dick wiggled closer and tucked his head beneath Slade’s chin. A contented sigh escaped Dick’s lips as Slade curled his arm around Dick’s side and shifted so that Dick’s head was pillowed on Slade’s chest. Slade was not Jason, he was not Bruce. But he was bulky in a familiar, comforting fashion and perhaps Dick could carve a role for him too. 

“Sleep well, kid. You may not remember our vows, but I swore to have and to hold you. And I intend to do both.”

Dick lightly scratched Slade’s side. “We’ll see,” he murmured, although sleep was already dragging him under. 

He didn’t dream this time. 

* * *

 

 When neither Dick nor Slade appeared for breakfast the next morning, Jason gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword in a white knuckled fist. 

"Jason," Barbara warned. "You have no idea why they're late, do not escalate this."

"Dick's late all of the time," Tim murmured, already nibbling at the spread. "But now that Slade's here, you're throwing a fit. Why?" He blinked up at Jason's scowl. 

"Because he could slit Dick's throat," Jason hissed, "and usurp the city. You may trust a stranger with teeth, I don't." With that, Jason stormed from the dining hall even though Barbara shouted after him. 

I’m his absence, the room was silent for a moment. Finally, Helena offered, "If Jason kills Slade, as I believe he should, we can tell Bruce that Slade fell. Clumsiness catches, as you know, and Dick clearly caught it if he’s somehow falling in the city streets." 

"With a blade wound?" Damian snorted.

Barbara smirked. "Bruce _loves_ falling on his sword. He'll more than understand." 

When Jason reached Slade and Dick's bedroom door, he paused, took a steeling breath, and burst into the room. In an inhale, he had his sword unsheathed and a shout on his lips. But Slade looked him in the eyes and placed a finger to his lips. Beside Slade, Dick slept soundly, an arm and a leg slung over Slade's body. The sheets pooled low enough to reveal that Dick's skin was largely covered, and the only marks on Dick's body were ones with which Jason was familiar. Jason sheathed his sword. 

"Breakfast is prepared," Jason murmured lowly, not yet willing to wake Dick. Slade hummed. 

"Surely we should allow his rest. He didn't sleep well last night." 

Dick stirred as Slade's chest rumbled, but he didn't wake. 

Jason furrowed his brows. "Pray tell." 

Slade stroked Dick's head. Dick crooned and tilted his neck, revealing the healing bruise Jason left on Dick's neck. Slade idly traced a circle around the mark with his fingertip. 

"A nightmare. Fortunately, I was here to soothe him." 

"Excellent," Jason gritted, "but breakfast has been prepared. Dick!" Jason did not mean to snap Dick’s name with such venom, but he desperately needed Dick out of that bed. 

Dick stirred and then sat up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. "'S too early for you to be so loud," he grumbled, crawling from the bed. Despite his put out tone, Dick was quick to add, "Jason, please meet with me after breakfast. I want to discuss Damian's induction into your guard force." 

Slade snorted at the transparent excuse, but allowed it without comment. 

"Of course," Jason murmured, glaring at Slade. 

Jason’s sour mood remained steady throughout breakfast, but most of the others played at congeniality, if only because Alfred flitted among them, tapping them lightly should their knives slip from their sheaths or should their words become too biting. 

But once breakfast was over, it was Dick who stormed from the table with barely a word, holing himself up in the library scarcely after he’d finished his last bite. Jason followed after, but not for several minutes.

The image of Dick tangled around Slade hadn’t left his mind, and Slade kept leering at him from across the table. Jason was petty, it was a personal failing.

When Jason arrived at the library, he regretted his hesitance. Dick was curled up in a chair, hands yanking at his hair. Jason strode across the room and immediately pulled Dick's head against his hip, stroking Dick's hair and smoothing it back down. 

"Sh," Jason murmured. "We'll get through this."

"You don't know that," Dick snapped back, pushing Jason away. Jason stumbled back, and frowned. 

"No," he spat back, swiveling on his heels and storming out. "I don't." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to Zillabird for reminding me of this story and how much I love it.

“We’re going out,” Dick demanded, as soon as Slade entered their newly shared bedroom. Slade raised his eyebrows.

Not eight hours ago, he’d caught Dick moping on a window ledge, glaring out at the grounds and tapping his foot with the fury of a jackrabbit. Slade had followed his gaze, to see Jason sparring out on the lawn with another prince, Tim. Their ferocity was to be commended, Jason fought ferociously and dirtily, but Tim appeared to keep his head afloat.

“A lover’s quarrel?” Slade had asked Dick. Dick’s boot had stilled, although he’d continued to watch the training game below.

“No,” Dick had admitted, voice softer than Slade had heard it yet. “I mistreated him this morning. He sought only to help, and I… rejected him.” Dick had tucked his knees in close, and Slade had briefly considered what could happen should Dick fall. His balance had appeared precarious at best, but then again, Slade knew of Dick’s affection for height.

“You needn’t his help. You have me,” Slade had murmured, crossing his arms. Dick had cast him a rueful glance.

“You’re the issue. Your intentions are murky, and your boundaries are poor. I respect your…investigative skills, even your interest in Nightwing, but I can only trust you as far as I can throw you, and I’ve yet to throw you successfully.”

“I’ve done nothing but offer my admiration and guidance,” Slade had reminded him. Slade had stalked closer until he stood next to Dick. He had lowered himself to one knee, glanced up at Dick. “After all, I am your husband. It’s my marital duty.”

Dick had rolled his eyes. “I won’t join you in any of your unsavory campaigns. Voluntarily null our marriage, go court someone more your kind.”

Slade had laughed, and Dick had raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not my first,” Slade had divulged. “And I prefer you to… my kind. It’s terribly inconvenient to rely on those too much like you, with too many of the same vices.” Slade had then pointedly flicked his attention to Jason, from where he labored outside. “And too much shared history.”

Dick had snorted. “You know nothing of us.”

Slade had leaned forward, so close that he heard Dick’s sharp intake of breath. Slade recalled how, in that closeness, Dick’s eyelashes fanned full and fluttering, how warmth emanated from his skin even exposed as he had been to the brisk, spring air.

“Your boy is an exposed nerve, raw and open and as easy to read as a children’s tale,” Slade had whispered. “And you emote with the hyperbole of an actress. I know what I’ve inferred, and I’ve inferred enough to know that you weren’t created to smother underneath the weight of someone else’s insecurities. You live as a candle flame, but you could be a wildfire.”

 Slade had drawn his lips to nearly brush against Dick’s ear as he added, “I want to see you rage.”

With that, Slade had risen to his feet and left Dick, alone, curled up on a window ledge.

So, imagine Slade’s surprise when Dick thrust Slade’s own mask at Slade and invited their departure.

“I thought you were resting,” Slade murmured, even as he abandoned the city documents he’d been reading in order to begin stripping his layman’s clothes in favor of his marauding suit. Dick pointedly looked away as Slade undressed, apparently having learned that lesson.

“I’ve rested enough,” Dick said curtly, removing his own garments. Slade did not do him the same courtesy of privacy, and he openly appreciated Dick’s musculature as Dick donned his skintight evening attire. If Dick noticed, he didn’t pay Slade any mind. “I’ve become restless, and my city has gone unprotected. What sort of regent am I if I don’t maintain a presence?”

Slade strapped on his swords, offering Dick his own fighting sticks from their place in the armoire, which Slade had discovered the day prior while searching for ink and a quill.

“Here I thought Nightwing existed before your Regency,” Slade murmured. “What changed your mind, kid?”

Dick gently applied his mask before accepting his sticks and sliding them into their holsters against his back. “My mind hasn’t changed. But I need a run, and you’ve insisted that I involve you. Do you wish to come, or do you want to mince words?”

With a bow, Slade gestured to the door.

As it turned out, Dick didn’t bother with doors while Nightwing. Instead, they descended from the window by way of rope. Slade found this curious, as it didn’t appear Dick kept his persona a secret from the household, but this was Slade’s first opportunity to shadow Dick in Dick’s finest. As such, he kept his commentary to himself.

They slipped from the grounds, seemingly undetected, and began their campaign in the city. At first, Dick kept their route simple; they ran through alleys and occasionally across rooftops, pausing every so often to surveil before continuing. But then Dick began to pepper in flips and apparent little games as he swung and cartwheeled and unnecessarily traced patterns whilst climbing walls.

Slade was about to write the night off as light exercise when a cry rang out in the otherwise dull streets. Dick dove into action, rolling out from a flip and leaping towards the sounds of distress. Slade kept as much distance as he could while maintaining sight. And so he watched from afar as Dick elegantly wrapped his thighs around a brawny man’s thick neck, twisting and bringing the man down and away from the youth the man had crowded against a grimy alley wall.

Dick then slung himself into a handstand that fell into a front kick, which he managed to land into the man’s groin as the man attempted to stand. Once again, the assailant, who nearly doubled Dick in bulk, fell to the ground, where he remained this time. Dick primly walked past him and then crouched next to the child.

While Slade couldn’t hear what was said, he witnessed Dick’s efficacy. The child wrapped its thin arms around Dick’s neck and Dick lifted it up, carrying it past the man and down several blocks. Slade considered following, but the felled man was stirring, and Slade saw a wonderful opportunity, one which he couldn’t deny.

And so, Slade abandoned his secrecy to approach the man, first via rooftop before Slade dropped to the ground beside him. The man attempted to scramble away, but Slade pressed his boot into the man’s chest and held him still.

At a glance, the man was well nourished, and his thick build was muscle, with enough fat to suggest wealth. His clothes were clean and fresh, but he had mottled scars across his arms, and a crooked nose that suggested a nasty break that healed before it was set.

“You’re somebody’s muscle,” Slade mused. “What? Needed some extra labor? The sort of work that only tiny hands can accomplish?”

To the man’s credit, he sneered and then spit. Slade kicked his side sharply, and then again until he felt the man’s ribs cave beneath the layers of flesh and muscle. The sound that slid from the man’s chapped lips was a satisfying blend between a whimper and a yelp.

“I won’t deny the practicality,” Slade offered. “And I have a feeling the previous establishment offered a leniency you’ve enjoyed exploiting up to this point. But,” Slade crouched down, gripped the man’s chin so that he could direct the man’s gaze, “consider me the armor to Nightwing’s soft underbelly. What he begins, I finish. For you, let my gentleness serve as payment for your service in spreading this promise. Can you do that?”

Slade slackened his grip on the man’s jaw so that the man could nod, and nod he did.

“Good.”

As quiet as Dick was, Slade could hear the pattering of his approach easily enough. Especially when he was followed by the ungraceful clomping of another party, a constable no doubt.

Without another word, Slade stood and stepped away from the man. Sure enough, Nightwing rounded the corner, only to skid to a stop. He looked from Slade to the man still prone on the ground. The man’s eyes were round, but he remained still, even as the approaching constable’s steps grew loud enough for average ears to register.

“Oh?” Dick asked. “I worried he’d have disappeared by the time I came back from returning the child to his home.”

Slade tilted his head. “I kept him for you. I presumed you’d return with the proper authorities.”

As if on cue, a constable appeared, her curly, dark brown hair tied back and her hand on her sheathed dagger. She stumbled to a stop when she saw Slade.

“And here you told me the perp had probably escaped,” she said, glancing at Nightwing. Nightwing shrugged.

“I didn’t anticipate the aid. I anticipated incorrectly.” Dick offered a small smile to Slade, a public show of gratitude. Slade tilted his head.

“Well, Sawyer will be here after speaking to the family. Thank you, Nightwing and… company,” the constable murmured, glancing Slade up and down.

Dick offered her a salute and turn to leave, but before he could, the constable coughed and said, “Before you go, could you, ah….” She dug on her person and pulled out a sealed letter. Dick grinned, an unfettered smile that brightened him even if the depth of the night.

“Of course,” he said taking the letter. And then, without a cue to Slade, Dick set off in a run. Slade glanced at the constable once more before following.

It wasn’t until they were alone, near the docks of the city, that Dick stopped long enough to face Slade.  

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dick said. Before Slade could respond, Dick added, “But you did. Thank you.”

Slade crossed his arms. “I’ve told you before. I gave you my vows and I intend to keep them.”

Dick cocked his head. “And, as young as I may have been, I also made my vows. I’m afraid I’ve done you a disservice and misjudged you.”

“I respect your wariness,” Slade murmured. “It wouldn’t do for a regent to give his trust freely. Are you finished for the night, or should we continue?”

Dick shook his head. “Renee and Maggie are capable, and the night’s slow. That, and if I don’t wake up in bed, the rest of the house will have my head for leaving while my shoulder is healing.”

With that, Slade followed Dick back. Dick went at a pace that Slade thought was leisurely until Dick nearly slipped while climbing back through the window. Slade untangled him from the rope and urged him onto Slade’s back, where Dick crawled willingly enough. Slade carried him the rest of the way up the rope and through the window.

Once inside the room, Slade helped Dick strip, revealing Dick’s inflamed shoulder. Dick grinned weakly at him.

“Perhaps I could have managed without a few of the flips,” he offered. Slade grunted.

“Perhaps. You will bathe, you will let me dress your shoulder, and then you will sleep.”

Dick’s grin slipped into a scowl. “Don’t presume to begin giving me orders now,” Dick whined, even as he set for the bathroom. Slade followed, surprised to find the basin already filled with steaming water. Dick shot Slade a wink.

“Nothing escapes Alfred.” Then Dick paused, chewing his lip and glancing between the singular basin and Slade. No doubt, he was reconsidering the declaration regarding his butler as their predicament became apparent. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “And you, do you intend to bathe?”

“Presumably,” Slade snorted. “It seems I’ll have to encourage Wintergreen to mentor under Alfred’s omnipotence, and tomorrow we can request a second basin.”

Dick didn’t continue to the bath, instead choosing to furrow his brows and bore a hole into the wall to the side of and behind Slade with a contemplative stare. Finally, after a while, Dick met Slade’s eye and offered, “I’ll ask Alfred in the morning. Until then, we can share the bath. For practicality.”

Satisfaction bloomed in Slade’s chest. All it took was a touch of tenderness, and already Dick was opening to him like a curled flower in afternoon sun.

“As long as it’s amenable to you,” Slade said, even as he led Dick into the bathroom. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”

Dick offered him another one of those small, controlled smiles. “Yes, well. Your assistance tonight was appreciated too. Just don’t consider anything improper, and this arrangement will do.”

When they settled in the hot water, Dick nestled between Slade’s longer legs, lethargy seizing their bones, Slade couldn’t resist the thought that the arrangement would more than suffice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to try to lean in more with the romance novel-esque tropes. Big scary muscle man sweeps hapless, royal twunk off his feet seems to be good enough fodder :)
> 
> Also, anyone want to guess what's up with that letter ;) I'm hoping for more ensemble action next chapter.


End file.
